


War Machine

by kabrox18



Series: Idiots in Space [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 21:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11022186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabrox18/pseuds/kabrox18
Summary: More Wolfie/Tee silliness.





	War Machine

**Author's Note:**

> so bite me was suprisingly popular, huh. thanks for liking my writing (ouo)b

Tee is a war machine. Sure, all the exo are, but the titan  _ embraces _ it, and it rubs Wolfie in a way he doesn’t like. Even now, as he perches with scout rifle in hand, he frowns at the way it walks. Heel-to-toe, shotgun set to its shoulder. When it wants to move, it  _ does, _ leaping and skidding and plowing through enemies like they’re just things in its way. Which, now that he thinks about it, they are. Nera comes onto comms, patching in with a crackling, digital snap.

“How are things going?” She asks, almost conversationally. It’s a nice change from the minimal answers from their jackass local titan--that was for sure.

“Pretty well,” he replies, setting his cheek to his gun and squinting a little at Tee. It grabs a psion by one sloped shoulder, cocking a fist back and letting it fly. The psion’s head wrenches off to one side, and he swears he can hear the wet crack even at this distance. The titan drops the cabal--it doesn’t get up. Two more come to replace it though, telekinetic energies already lighting them up like stormcallers during a match of mayhem. Tee pulls the shotgun up, and Wolfie swallows the twinge of envy he feels at the way the titan absorbs the recoil as smooth as silk.

“Almost done with your little relic-iron hunt?”

“Just about,” he says, sitting up partially to check on something with his Ghost. It looks  _ tired, _ and he wonders to himself just how it’s hung on this long. It’s looked like it hasn’t gotten a moment’s rest since it resurrected him for the past month. He swaps comm channels, looking back to the titan as he settles prone again. “You fuckin’  _ done  _ yet?” He demands, and the titan just gives a soft sound he could swear was a chuckle.

“If you don’t want to stick around, then leave. You’re just weighing me down-” it pauses, giving a slight grunt at being assaulted by a Centurion’s hail of rockets, “-anyway. I don’t need help,” it says, entirely too cocksure for his liking.

“Well if you didn’t need help, why drag me along?”

“I figured you could  _ learn something. _ ” It stops, briefly, in its massacre; he hears that chilling, hollow metal-on-metal sound, and it seems like Mars’s sands are alight like the surface of the Sun. The killing resumes very quickly after that. He grumbles, allowing his Ghost to transmat his rifle away.

“If you’re  _ soooo _ good, then what if I’m completely unarmed? Would you protect me, keep me alive through say…” He looked up at the hiss of engines. “...A cabal assault on a warsat?”

“Of course I could. Thousand glimmer says so.”

“Five thousand.”

“ _ Three _ -thousand.”

“Alright, I could use the bar money.” He gets up, putting his feet under himself and springing off the ledge. He tumbles neatly with shadestep to the warsat, and to his amusement the titan gives an annoyed little scoff as it cruises just above the ground, quick and effortless. Like an ice-skater.

“I don’t like you,” Tee huffs, loading the old belt-fed machine gun it’d been gifted for “loyal support of Dead Orbit”. Wolfie knew it just liked the gear, and couldn’t give a rat’s ass about their mission statement. The first cabal ship dropped out of orbit, dumping a group of Legionnaires. He leans casually against the warsat as it hoses the aliens down with its auto rifle.

“Happy?” It says, looking to him over one bulkily-armored shoulder. He shrugged, a careless little gesture, and pointed to another ship.

“Y’ain’t done, war machine,” he drawls. Tee growls, a machine grate that makes him wince inwardly. He crawls to the top of the warsat, sitting with his legs crossed on the machine as it whirred and hummed, Axis flitting about and prepping it for transmat. He grins to himself when the titan pulls out its machine gun, popping cabal heads like it’s going out of fashion.

“Almost done,” it says, confident. It doesn’t feel so confident when a major Colossus drops from the gut of another dropship. The giant bellows a war cry, but glances around in shock as its compatriots crumbled to ash before its eyes. It stumbles back slightly when it’s hit with the same flaming weapons, but stays standing and even opens fire on the Guardian.

“Better be careful, Tee,” Wolfie crows mockingly. “I was nearly headshot.” It growls again and skims in close to the cabal general, shotgun in hand. The hail of bullets don’t deter it--weight flicked this way dodges that burst, weight thrown that way evades this burst. Tee skids to a halt in arms’ reach of the Colossus, who rears back for a destructive melee. It doesn’t get a chance, shells shredding its chest and helmet. Blackish blue sludge erupts out of the buckshot-ridden armor, and the last cabal drops dead.

“Done,” Axis reports. Wolfie slides off, stepping closer and slowly clapping. Tee seems to struggle to vent, and turns to the hunter, shoulders quivering slightly with the effort as it flips the shotgun onto its side, sliding shells in.

“Impressive, war machine,” he comments, head cocked. It slides the gun along its back, until it snaps into the mag-clamps.

“Where’s my three thousand gimmer, punk?” It says, coming closer and gesturing with one hand impatiently. It’s a little wave, almost like a taunting  _ come at me. _

“Sorry, flat broke,” Wolfie says, shrugging lazily.

“Then you owe me. Better get in gear--you’re gunna be my bitch until I get that glimmer.” Tee sounds almost  _ eager,  _ and the hunter feels a sudden bout of  _ I regret this decision. _


End file.
